


Inside

by Furhious



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Doggy Style, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top!Connor, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 09:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furhious/pseuds/Furhious
Summary: Connor loves being inside you.Shameless smut.





	Inside

Connor loves being inside you. 

You knew this from the beginning, from the very first time the tension became too much and you ended up naked, somehow, with him between your thighs and thrusting home. He had merely held himself there for a moment before the shock had worn off and he began to move. 

There are still moments like that. Moments where he just stops, his cock buried fully inside you, bottomed out and stretching you full, and he closes his eyes; the frown of concentration on his face is beautiful, and the LED at his temple is a spinning disc of bright gold. 

You ask him about it, maybe the fourth or fifth time you make love, when he does it again, freezing in place like his motor functions have been switched off; he doesn’t even bother to breathe. But he does open his eyes and look at you, and a subtle smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a smile you kiss away with yours. 

“You feel warm,” he tells you, his naturally smoky voice a raspy whisper that lodges somewhere in your primordial, animal brain and makes you shiver. “Warm, and wet, and soft...and  _ alive.”  _

The last word he punctuates with a grind of his hips, not quite a thrust, but enough to move him within you, to give you some of the friction you so desperately crave. You gasp and press your heels into the bed, your knees tight around his slim waist, and you try to lift yourself up against him, but he keeps you pinned to the bed with his hips and his cock. 

“Every time we do this,” he continues, his mouth drifting over your cheek, your jaw, lips warm from the heat of your skin, “I feel a little closer to what it must be like to be human.”

“Oh, Connor,” you breathe his name like a prayer, a space in your heart reserved only for him weak and warming. You don’t know what else to say, so you don’t; you merely wrap your arms around him and hold him close. 

You would be content with just this, but his length is still buried firmly inside you, and you swear you can feel it pulsing with the rhythm of his thirium pump. 

He’s big - you hadn’t failed to appreciate that when you’d first slept with him. Not overly so, but big enough you can’t meet thumb and forefinger around the thick of him. Big enough that he stretches you almost to the point of pain, but not quite, until your body adjusts. Big enough you can feel him in the back of your throat when he thrusts hard enough. 

It’s very distracting. Not to mention your arousal still spooling deep down in the bottom of your stomach, undeniable, like a hungry, caged predator waiting for its meal. 

You need more. You can’t help it. “Connor, that’s beautiful, but I need you to move,  _ please,  _ I…”

You trail off as he kisses your neck, nipping at the fragile skin over your throat, and you let out a faint whine. “Patience,” he tells you in that quietly assured voice of his, and despite it you try desperately to grind up onto him using your leverage from the bed. 

Connor pushes down  _ harder _ with his hips and you squeak in almost-pain as that forces his cock as deep as it can go, and you feel it from your cervix to your scalp. Your eyes roll back and you take a deep breath but your lungs are crowded out by the foreign body inside you, and you clench down on him automatically. You’ve never felt so  _ full  _ before. 

But still, you  _ ache _ for friction, for the slide of his cock through your walls, stimulating places inside you no man has ever reached before. Connor lying still above you, inside you, is driving you insane. 

“You’re never going to make me come like that,” you tell him, because you  _ know _ he likes to make you come. He’s obsessed with the physiological changes you undergo during the process, loves to watch you as you lose control because of him,  _ for  _ him. He gives you at least three orgasms every time, but you haven’t even had one yet and you  _ need _ him in a way you never have before. 

“Am I not?” His tone is almost playful, and before you can answer he pulls out of you, leaving you gasping empty at the loss, but he’s not done - he grabs your hips and hauls you over into your stomach effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing, and you’re too shocked and boneless to fight it as he hauls you back on your knees. 

Then he’s positioning himself behind you, and you have time to stutter out a surprised “Connor-“ before he plunges back into you all the way, all at once. You cry out as he pushes through your inner walls, your thighs trembling as the head of his dick drags over new territory inside you, hitting places that have your toes curling. Then his hips are flush against your ass and he’s holding himself still  _ again _ while your fists twist in the bed sheets and you push back desperately against him. 

“Patience,” he says again, his voice a purr that goes straight to your aching cunt, and you whimper helplessly as his fingers dig into your skin and he holds you tight. 

You’re throbbing inside, you realise after a moment, in time with his simulated pulse. You’re under-stimulated and your body is seeking any kind of input it can get. You feel every inch of him, buried to the hilt, and you can feel your excitement ramping. A ghost of what he must feel, powerful nonetheless. 

Connor feels your body relax into it, and he lets go of your hips, one hand ghosting comfortingly up your spine as he leans forward and wraps his other arm around your middle. 

“That’s it,” he whispers in your ear, his artificial breath cool on your neck. You shiver as he slowly draws you up to sitting on your knees, still keeping his length fully inside you. You’re overwhelmed, skewered helplessly by his cock. 

The arm around you ventures lower and you realise what he’s doing an instance before you feel his hand drift over your mound, a second before his middle finger finds the hood of your clit, swollen and wanting. You gasp and shake in his arm as he applies a gentle pressure, moving his finger in a half-circle over the throbbing bundle of nerves. It’s almost too much. With him inside you pressing on every spot, his fingers working you so expertly, you know at once that it wasn’t true, what you said: He’s going to make you come like this. Effortlessly. 

You don’t care. You don’t want to resist; you want him to do whatever he wants to you as long as his fingers and his cock stay exactly where they are. 

Said fingers continue to move, applying a little more pressure, switching from a circular motion to an up-down brush of his smooth fingertips over your clit. You can feel your thighs trembling as the heat behind your hips builds. You’re hopeless to fight it; it bears down on you with the force of a typhoon, a hurricane, a beautiful, natural disaster that you  _ know _ is going to leave you broken in all the best ways. 

Connor murmurs your name into your ear and you can feel him pulse inside you, faster now. You wonder if he’s as close as you are, just from this. 

You don’t have time to ask him before he adds a second finger to the pressure on your clit and finds  _ just that spot _ , and he’s relentless and determined and all the things you love about him as he brings you to orgasm. 

You feel your inner walls start to flutter with it an instant before it rushes through you, blossoming out from his fingers, from his cock lodged so deep inside you, and you cry out as the ripple of heat peaks and shakes you, hard, an earthquake in your bones, setting your marrow on fire. Every hair on your body stands on end, gooseflesh marbling your tingling skin, and Connor holds you as you tremble and buck through it, holding himself there, buried in your warm, wet heat. 

He grunts against your neck and you realise he’s coming, too, your release setting off his as your insides constrict around him, squeezing as his cock pumps his artificial fluid deep inside you, so deep you can  _ feel _ it, hot in the pit of your belly and it sets you on fire all over again. 

His fingers don’t stop moving until you start panting and whimpering and reaching for his wrist to push his hand away. Connor halts then, but he doesn’t pull out, merely holds you there as you lean back against his chest, limp and sweating and panting wordlessly. 

He’s still inside, you realise. Still hard and pulsing. You shudder against and around him, and you can feel his smile against your neck. 

“See?” You can’t be angry at the smugness in his voice. “I knew you could do it.” His praise sparks in that place in your chest again, and you murmur some kind of agreement. It turns into a groan when he suddenly pushes forward and grinds into you. You fall to your hands and knees again and he takes your hips in his hands and - oh, God - he starts to thrust. 

Connor pulls out all the way and  _ slams _ back in as hard as you can take it. His fluids are running down your thighs and it’s so slippery and messy but he doesn’t care, he fucks into you with the singleminded focus of a machine. All the friction you had been craving before and more, all at once. The sound of your bodies meeting is a wet slap with every thrust, mingled with your moans and cries that only seem to spur Connor on. 

You come around his frantically pistoning cock, spasming inside and out, clawing at the bed, practically  _ sobbing  _ with the strength of it; a supernova in every nerve. Connor buries himself in you one last time and he’s panting and filling you  _ again _ and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this impossibly full, and fucked, and satiated as you collapse limply on the bed. 

He holds himself above you with his hands on either side of your head. His lips are warm, this time, when he kisses the back of your neck. 

Your voice is a croak, barely more than a whisper, when you manage a soft “Thank you,” and Connor’s smile is, as always, something you can only feel as he presses it to your skin. 

He belongs here. Inside you. And you don’t ever want him to leave.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, please check out my other works or drop a line/follow me on tumblr!


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